


Symphonies In My Head

by dottie_wan_kenobi



Series: Stephanie "Steph" Rogers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Banter, Bossy Steve, Bucky has a crush on an OC that is not part of the story, Consensual Underage Sex, Developing Relationship, F/M, Female Steve, Female Steve Rogers, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Bisexuality, Loving Marriage, Married Couple, Oral Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, Run-On Sentences, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Inexperience, Stream of Consciousness, Teasing, Underage Kissing, Vaginal Sex, Waiting, as in they wait until they are married to have sex, in that they are both bi but they don't have sex with anyone else, like he's mentioned but not really in it, they really love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi
Summary: Stevie and Bucky deal with their relationship expanding sexually.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------His eyes drag over her face, squinting a little. She tries not to fidget -- she wants this to be good for him, and she knows if he sniffs out any hesitation in her, he won’t get to do what he wants. She doesn’t manage it, because he pulls away and says, “We can do anything you want, Stevie.”She crosses her arms across her chest, anticipating an argument. “I want to do whatyouwant to do.”“Stevie, I want to do whatyouwant. Which means we have to come to a compromise, here.” He pushes some hair behind her ear, not a bit frustrated. “How about this -- we decide where we want to stop when we get there.”And, well -- that doesn’t sound so bad. “Okay. Let me take my glasses off before we start.” She barely gets them set on the side table before he’s pulling her back onto the bed, manhandling her gently.“What are you doing?” She laughs, trying to wiggle away.“Trying to get you undressed.”





	1. ONE -- 1931

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Day 15: Genderswap](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874562) by [melonbutterfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly). 



> UNDERAGE EXPLANATION: They consensually kiss at 13/14, touch Stevie under her shirt at 16/17, and grind at 17/18. In the other three situations, they are both 18 or older.
> 
> This was supposed to be a PWP lmao.
> 
> Title from Trumpets by Jason Derulo.
> 
> Betaed by the amazing Cali, who has helped me at every turn, and read in real time by Polzka Dotz, who is the bane of my existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underage, consensual kissing in this chapter.

Their relationship changes slowly, though she can pinpoint the exact moment the change starts.

Puberty hits Bucky like a freight train, leaving him with a crack in his voice, a near-permanent flush, and wandering eyes. He grows -- or rather, sprouts -- two little chest hairs that Steph _must_ see, and armpit hair, as well. She flushes so red when he pulls his shirts down to show her, he’s asked if she’s okay on more than one occasion. He asks if she can see his moustache often.

“What moustache?” She asks, half-teasing, half-unable to see anything, despite his promises there’s something there.

He groans, a laughing, friendly thing. “Stevie, come on. You really can’t see it?”

She shakes her head, laughing with him. This exchange happens everyday, on their way to and from school, as if it’ll grow in enough she can see anything by the end of the day. It’s just one of the changes that upset and interest her in equal parts.

He’s different around girls, now, and they all seem to notice. Though he sits with Steph at lunch every day, when he gets up to see if anyone wants to trade, he gets sidetracked by girls who _touch him_ and _laugh at his dumb jokes_ and _make eyes at him_ . It’s infuriating to Steph, though she doesn’t understand quite why. When he returns, smiling wide and blushing nearly as red as Steph does, she’s snippy. At first, he tried to ask her what was wrong, why she was mad -- _as if it isn’t obvious,_ she thinks angrily -- but now he just sighs and waits it out.

He’s not nearly as bad around other boys, specifically older ones. When older boys speak, he gazes upon them with awe and reverence, hangs onto their every word. In his eyes, they know everything and anything. They could never do wrong, except the ones who pick fights with Steph, or tease him about being friends with the harpy.

It’s where he gets the idea from. Apparently, Arnie’s sister Patty’s friend Arthur has gotten to “second base” with a girl. This mystery girl is an amazing kisser, a real natural if you ask Arthur. Bucky does ask Arthur, for all the details he can get. And Arthur, like an idiot if you ask Steph, _tells_ Bucky, who goes and tells Steph.

See, they don’t have sleepovers often anymore. Ma Barnes isn’t particularly fond of Steph and her Ma’s religion and Irish-ness, but has never said Bucky and Steph can’t be friends. Now that they’re older, though, she says it’s inappropriate for them to be alone with each other, much less spend the night on the pillows. Ma has no such compunctions, because she trusts Steph and Bucky to make the right choices, and will sometimes tell Ma Barnes that she’s got a day off when she really doesn’t.

On those days, Steph and Bucky stay on the couch, or in the kitchen, only venturing out to use the bathroom at the end of the hall. Bucky always has something to talk about, be it one of his siblings or a friend or a news story or a book he read; the only time he shuts up is when he’s reading. Steph draws, talking if Bucky is, or keeping quiet if he’s reading. It’s a system, one that Steph enjoys and wishes to keep.

But he changes it one day, waiting until Ma is gone to say, with all the weight he can put on it, “I found out somethin’ real interesting yesterday.”

Interesting to Bucky could be a whole range of things, from a toy he wants to get for one of the kids, to a textbook on navigating the stars. Steph can sometimes tell by looking at his face, but today, eyes wide and lips pressed together in a line, she can’t. She sets her pencil down on the table, rests her chin in that palm. “Oh, yeah? What?”

He proceeds to tell her about Arthur and the girl he kissed. Bucky is a born storyteller, pulling her in despite herself.

She doesn’t say much until Bucky says, “She leaned in first, but Arthur is the one who went all the way -- “

“What’s this girl’s name?”

Bucky blinks, thrown off his rhythm. After a moment, he shrugs. “I dunno, Arthur didn’t say. But he did say that she tasted like peaches. Peaches, Steph, I always thought necking would taste like...I don’t know what, but not peaches.”

Steph says, “She probably ate peaches before they necked, Buck. If you kissed someone right now, you’d taste like whatever you ate last.”

Which is -- a thought. That Steph has. And will not entertain.

“Bread and jam?” He asks, smirking and giving her a _look_. “I don’t think whoever I kissed would like that.”

Despite herself, Steph shrugs. “Could be somethin’ worse. Like hot dogs.”

Nose scrunching up, Bucky replies, “Well, it’s good she ate peaches, then. But that’s not the important part -- Arthur said their tongues touched. Like the French do.”

“Their tongues?” Steph questions, trying to imagine it. She’s only really ever seen Ma and Dad Barnes kiss, but never for long and never using their _tongues_ . Unbidden, an image of Bucky kissing someone with his tongue -- of Bucky kissing _her_ like that -- pops into her mind. She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Why would they -- “

“It feels good, I guess. Arthur sure liked it.”

“Arthur might be lying, Bucky,” Steph suggests, knowing he won’t like it.

His eyebrows furrow down, and his lips press together again. “Why would he lie?”

“Because you’re obsessed with him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m not obsessed with him. He’s -- he’s _cool_ , Steph.” He sighs, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

That leads to an argument, one of their epic ones where Bucky leaves huffing and puffing, and Steph flops onto her and Ma’s bed and cries hot, angry tears.

By the next day, they’ve made up -- Steph only backs down for two people, Ma and Bucky. Bucky is a lot less argumentative, though, and Steph will never admit this, he’s better at fighting. Or rather, she starts fights and he ends them. But that’s usually only with other people -- their fights have never lasted longer than two days.

Their walk to school is a little stilted, but by lunch, everything is back to normal. Even the girls and the nonsensical anger is there.

That’s the beginning of the end, really.

Bucky joins the football team when signups roll around, making more friends than he and Steph have ever had before. He still sits with her at lunch, but his time after school gets taken up by others. Steph spends a lotta time with Arnie, or by herself.

Ever since they were four and five, when they met on the playground, they’ve never gone more than a few days without seeing each other. When Steph is sick, Bucky comes over anyway, to sit with her and read to her.

Though it feels like it, Bucky hasn’t changed. He still walks her home whenever he doesn’t have practice, and regales her with science facts he swears he didn’t learn from Buck Rogers. Steph grows used to their new routine, and by the end of the semester, with football season over, everything is as it should be.

Between the two of them, Steph is the troublemaker. No one believes it, instead seeing her as the younger girl following Bucky Barnes around on adventures they’re too young for. Reality is, Bucky doesn’t enjoy trouble except in certain situations, and only causes it when he doesn’t know he is.

They’re sitting on the fire escape of Steph and Ma’s tenement. Steph’s legs are hanging down through the slats, pressed up against Bucky’s legs, they’re sitting so close. It’s nice, Steph thinks. They aren’t often so close, not anymore.

Steph has been thinking a lot about Bucky lately.

The change in their relationship was started by Bucky, but Steph is the one who thought about the change in the first place.

See, Steph has grown up on the stories of Dad and Ma, who were friends first, falling in love and marrying after knowing each other for several years. She’s heard the stories of their slow beginnings, and how Ma will never marry another man because she still loves him so much. And Ma has told Steph nearly all of the things she’ll have to know one day -- what sex is, how it makes babies, how not to get pregnant, and what to do if you get pregnant when you shouldn’t be. Ma isn’t the warmest person in the world, but she’s taken the time to tell Steph about relationships, too.

And Steph has been _thinking_ about this, for a while now. Steph is stubborn and usually knows what she wants. She makes a plan and sticks with it, or else charges in headfirst without one. But for once, she isn't sure what she wants to do about something, and of course, it's Bucky's fault. She's had dreams about him -- while not unusual considering how long they’ve been friends, there’s been a definite shift in the tone of them, from crazy adventures to...other things. Things like necking and cuddling like the older kids.

An uncomfortable feeling sinks like a stone in her stomach. More than anything, she wishes things had stayed the same, but they can't, not after going to high school, not after the way _they've_ changed. So no, she isn't sure what she wants to do, but she knows she needs to do _something_.

But what?

Bucky takes the decision out of her hands.

He sighs, tapping his fingers on the metal before turning to her. “Remember Arthur's story about kissing and how much he liked it? Well...I’ve been thinking, we could find out if he's lying about how good it was or not. Since you think he was,” he teases, pushing his leg up against hers. There’s a false bravado about him, obvious in the way he’s smiling and jiggling his leg. “Wanna try it?”

Steph blinks, not even thinking about correcting him. “What?”

The showman's smile on Bucky’s face slips, for a split second. “I thought...maybe we could try necking out. Just once, you know? To see what it’s like.”

She doesn’t know what to say. For a long moment, she says nothing, just stares at him. He’s -- he’s _cute_ , she thinks, with his pretty blue eyes and smirking lips. She’s never really looked at him like this -- she can’t help but notice how big his forehead is, and how his hair flops over, hiding it.

It’s really no wonder girls are starting to go after him, and him after them.

Voice hard, Steph demands, “Are you teasing me? I’m not gonna be the butt of your joke, James Barnes. Are you being serious?”

Bucky’s eyes widen imperceptibly. Shock and anger (at her accusation, no doubt) bloom on his face. “ _No_ , Stevie. I would never do that. I -- I _am_ being serious, I promise.”

She crosses her arm, more of a protective gesture than an angry one. He’s never teased her like this, and he’s never lied to her, either -- she has no reason not to trust him. Reluctantly, she asks, “Just once?”

He licks his lips. “Yeah. Just once.”

“Well -- “ She inhales deeply, gathering her courage. “How do you want to do this?”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Are they really doing this?

Bucky leans back on one hand, hesitantly reaching out with the other. She tries not to jump when he touches her jaw, fingers so gentle he’s barely touching at all. His hand moves up, fingers dragging over her skin until his thumb rests on the apple of her cheek. “Should we -- “

Steph leans in, nuzzling into Bucky’s palm unintentionally. “Like this?”

He’s looking at her, intensely cataloging every part of her face. She hopes that he doesn’t see her the way she sees herself -- a too big, broken-twice nose, thick eyebrows, long eyelashes and unremarkable blue eyes hidden behind nondescript, cheap glasses, her third pair in as many years. Pretty but not beautiful.

“Maybe you should take off your glasses,” he suggests.

Defensively, used to being teased about them, she asks, “Why?”

“Don’t want ‘em to poke my eyes out, do you?”

And well, that’s reason enough to pull away slightly, slide her glasses off and hook them on her shirt so they don’t fall through to the bottom.

Bucky leans in, too, maneuvering them so their heads tilt different ways. They get so close that she can feel his breath blowing across her face. Anticipation catches in her throat, and her heart is pounding so loud she’s scared Bucky will hear. Steph herself can barely hear anything -- Bucky’s on her good side, her bad ear facing the street -- it’s all muffled, a jumble of noise and movement she can’t focus on. Her eyes shutter closed, a moment after Bucky’s.

It happens in a second. It’s hard to say which of the two of them are braver, but today, it’s Bucky. He leans in all the way, pressing his lips to hers. He’s more confident than she is, though that isn’t saying much, really. The only thing she really notices is that his lips are soft.

He pulls away, _too soon_ some part of her cries, inhaling immediately. It takes her a moment to register that he’s gone, an inch and a half between them again, his palm still on her cheek.

To be honest, Steph has had some doubts about herself -- she’s never wanted to kiss anyone, rarely had crushes. She’d considered her dreams of necking with Bucky to be flukes. Right up to the moment Bucky leaned all the way in, she’d thought she wouldn’t like it. Well, the verdict is in. She liked it. She liked it very much.

Her eyes open just as slow as they closed; Bucky is looking at her again, goofily. “Wow,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” she agrees, heart constricting in a new way. A _good_ way; _he’s so cute_ , that same part from earlier sighs.

“He wasn’t lying,” Bucky tells her, pulling his hand away from her face.

“I never said he was lying about necking, Buck, I said he was lying about the girl.”

They bicker, for a few minutes, like nothing has changed. Bucky swears up and down the girl is real, and Steph tries to get him to tell her what Arthur said about the girl. Arthur didn’t say much, not even her name, but Bucky is positive she’s real. Steph’s starting to think he’s only saying that to rile her up.

She _is_ getting riled. She doesn’t put her glasses back on, even though he’s a tad fuzzy.

Eventually, there’s a moment of silence, one they spend watching the street.

Bucky breaks it -- “Stevie, that was -- it was really -- “

Despite herself, she says, “Good.” Good doesn’t even begin to cover it, but she’s at a loss for words. There don’t seem to be any words that really encompass how _good_ it was.

“Yeah. Really, really good.”

They fall into silence again. Steph looks to the sky, inexplicably expecting it to be sunny and bright, even though it’s been cloudy and dreary for two days, now.

“Do you wanna -- “

“Should we -- “

“ -- Oh,” Steph murmurs, pausing so Bucky could speak.

“You go first,” Bucky offers, face flushed.

Steph’s face flushes in response. “Should we...try again? To make sure it wasn’t a fluke?”

Something like relief shines in Bucky’s eyes. He falls all over himself saying, “Yes, yes, let’s try again.”

And they do. They try again and again, innocent little pecks, until they spot Ma coming and hurry inside, trying to fix their hair and pretend their lips aren’t the slightest bit swollen. When Ma comes in, she doesn’t seem to notice anything.

On her way to the bedroom, to change no doubt, she tucks a bit of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “Don’t let your mother get any ideas of what you two have been doing, now.” Then she continues on, like nothing even happened.

Bucky and Steph gape at each other and don’t even have to talk about it -- when Ma comes back out, they look perfect, or at least, as disheveled as they usually are. Ma smiles knowingly but doesn’t say any more. They don’t go back out onto the fire escape; instead, they sit at the table and Steph draws while Bucky reads. They keep glancing at each other, trying not to giggle and catch Ma’s attention from where she rests on the couch.

At one point, he asks what she’s drawing. It’s him, which is not wholly unusual -- she’s been drawing him for years, has immortalized him, in her own way -- but she refuses to tell him about. He’s got too big a head as it is, no need for it to get bigger.

“None of your beeswax,” she tells him; somehow, thankfully, she keeps anticipation for his reaction hidden.

His reaction is exactly what she wants, a mix of bickering, bartering, begging to see, _bribing_. He doesn’t dare try to take her shut-up-tight sketchbook from her, knowing the kind of hell she rains down on anyone who even attempts to. She hordes it close to her, anyway, like it’s a prize. Bucky certainly looks at it with envy, befitting a dragon watching its princess get taken away by a prince.

They talk in undertones; Bucky asks to see something else, and Steph says she has to find a good one first. She scours the sketchbook for something not of Bucky, and worthy of being shared. There’s not much, except a portrait of a stray kitten Steph saved, once upon a time.

Before she hands it over, she warns, “You will only look at what I show you, or I’ll never show you anything else ever again.”

He takes the threat seriously, and is gentle with the sketchbook, doesn’t even touch the page after he sets it down.

“What’s his story?” He asks, peering at the kitten.

Steph tells him how she’d heard awful, wailing noises, and went to investigate; how she found a boy forcing the poor kitty to hang by his claws off an exposed pipe; how the boy had seemed uninterested when Steph intervened and let the kitten fall. Steph is allergic to fur, but she’d still taken him to Mrs. Downs five blocks away. Mrs. Downs had taken the kitten in, and, last Steph heard, the kitten is happy with a family, now.

The way Bucky looks at her as she recalls the details is intense, in the same way it had been earlier. He smiles, is quiet for a while. Then, he asks, “Can I keep this?”

Steph has rarely given him her drawings. She says, “Yes.”

Eventually, it’s time for Bucky to go home.

He gathers his stuff -- his book and the socks he left last time he came over and the drawing of the kitten -- and lets Steph walk him to the street. Ma doesn’t follow, which Steph can’t help but be thankful for.

He shifts on the balls of his feet, and she thinks, _this is it_. Surely, they can’t neck and come out unscathed. Something has to change, right? He gnaws on his lip for a moment, nervous energy radiating from him, before finally asking, “Do you wanna -- try again? Next time I come over?”

“Should we?” She hedges, mimicking Bucky’s movements. “Ma caught us, somehow. Won’t your Ma be able to tell?”

He shakes his head. “She’s too worried about Rose and Alex to notice.”

“Well -- then yes. We can try again sometime. Maybe…Monday?”

“Sure, yes, yeah,” Bucky stumbles over his words, not slick at all.

Steph laughs, not at him but with him, and tells him, “Go on, Bucky, before your Ma sends the troops out for you.”

Bucky grins at that, leans in to press a kiss to her cheek -- perfectly explainable, if it gets around to Ma Barnes -- and hurries off, shouting, “See ya on Monday, Stevie!”

 


	2. TWO -- 1934

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underage, consensual touching under clothes -- specifically, Bucky touches Steph's boobs.

By the time Bucky’s eighteenth birthday rolls around, they’re going steady.

Everyone has opinions on their relationship, from Ma and Ma Barnes down to Mrs. McGillicuddy's youngest daughter, only five years old and smart as a whip. Ma is perfectly happy with it, having had individual talks with them about the relationship and how to be safe; she’s even told them both they have her blessing. She thinks Bucky is the best thing for Steph, and that Steph is the best thing for Bucky. Ma Barnes, on the other hand, seems to think Bucky can do a lot better; she’d never say it to Steph or Ma’s face, but Bucky’s certainly heard her talk to Dad Barnes about it, and he doesn’t hide anything from Steph.

Well. He doesn’t hide anything from her, except what he’s hiding from her now.

Whatever it is, he hasn’t been hiding it long. Not quite two weeks, by her count -- he’d walked her home from school and begged off helping her with homework -- “Errands, you know how Ma is,” he’d excused.

Steph had let him go with a kiss on the cheek and a wave. “Of course, yeah. Will you make it in time for dinner?”

He hedges, for a moment, before saying, “I’m not sure. Maybe you could come over?”

They both know that lately, Ma Barnes has been in no mood for unplanned visitors. Several young, excitable children plus several older gossipy children aren’t a good mix for her temper. Still, it hurts to say, “No, I shouldn’t.”

He smiles at her, anyway. “That’s alright. Maybe next time.”

“Okay.”

They stare at each other for a moment, grins widening.

“I gotta go, now, Stevie,” he chuckles.

Steph leans in, hugs him tight, presses that kiss to his cheek, and calls as he walks off, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

When she makes it back to her and Ma’s apartment, her smile is subdued. It’s not unusual for Bucky to have errands, and so she thinks nothing of it, but seeing him go…. They’re together so often, being separated feels like an ache in her chest, for once not because of her body.

She doesn’t notice anything else until a few days later, when they’re lounging against a tree during lunch. Steph’s telling Bucky about how she nearly got into an argument with Jane Hart as they eat. He hands her a piece of bread to take her liver extract with, humming and yeah-ing at the appropriate places. She pauses to choke down the liver extract, glancing at him to make sure he’s listening.

He’s staring at her. She’s come to realize what his intense looks mean, something like affection or love, hopefully, but this is different.

She laughs, “What? What is it?”

He blinks, shakes his head. His hair flops onto his forehead; she reaches out to brush it away. Somehow, she gets sidetracked, resting her hand on his cheek instead. Bucky nuzzles into it, pressing a kiss to her thin wrist. “Nothin’, Stevie, don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?” She presses, swiping her thumb over his cheekbone.

He nods, “Mhmm. Get back to your story, I wanna hear how it ended.”

He wants to know more about her near-fight? That’s new. Hesitantly, she continues relating the story to him, but she doesn’t forget about the odd look.

Small things like that keep happening, often enough that Steph starts to worry. Individually, the looks and awkwardness don’t add up to much, but together, it’s a different story. She spends the nights tossing and turning, scared out of her mind that he’s finally going to listen to his Ma and everyone else who’s told him to leave her, find someone else who’s prettier and not as sickly. Nightmares of him telling her, “We’re done, Stephanie. For good. I’ve wasted too much time on you,” wake her up at least twice a night.

A plan forms, one she rethinks over and over. It’s risky, though she has a feeling Bucky will like it. All that takes to implement it is asking Ma, “Can Bucky come over on Friday? I wanna see him before his birthday.”

Ma pushes strands of hair out of her eyes, looking over her shoulder at Steph. “I work that night, honey. You know how Winnie is about that.”

Steph gets down on her knees next to Ma, taking the rag and rubbing at a spot.

Ma sighs, sitting up straight. She sees right through Steph. “Stephanie.”

“Ma, please. It’s really important,” she says to the floor, not quite courageous enough to look her in the eye.

“ _Stephanie_ , I can’t. The last time I let you two do this, you stayed up all night.” She doesn’t have to specify that they stayed up all night _necking_. A blush crawls to Steph’s cheeks and ears. “What could be so important?”

Steph mimics Ma, sighing and sitting up. She makes sure to convey how serious this is by grabbing Ma’s hand in hers and not fidgeting. “Ma, he’s been -- _hiding_ something from me. I need to talk to him about it, and I can’t do that at his place, or out on the town. I...I won’t stay up all night again. I promise, Ma. Just as long as he can come over on Friday.”

Ma’s eyes roam over her face; Steph holds her breath. “Will he be staying the night?”

Steph nods, hopefully.

“Alright, Steph. I’ll call Winnie soon, and ask, okay?”

Steph does not squeal, but she does launch herself at Ma, hugging so tight Ma scrapes out, “Can’t breathe, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma, thank you, thank you.” She presses a kiss to Ma’s cheek, and returns to the spot on the floor. Ma laughs and leaves her to it.

Within the hour, Bucky’s allowed to stay the night on Friday. Steph swears, Ma is magic at talking to Ma Barnes. When they go to bed, Ma asks, “He’s hiding something, is he?”

Steph brushes out her hair, halfway across the room. “I’m not sure. That’s why we gotta talk.”

“He sounded excited on the phone. Does he know you’re going to be talking?” She settles down in bed, watching. Steph can feel her eyes.

“No,” she answers, swallowing harshly. It’s okay, though. She has to reassure herself of that. No matter what happens, it’ll be okay.

Which brings them to tonight. To Bucky, hours from being a legal adult, sitting on her and Ma’s bed.

“I can’t believe your Ma got my Ma to let us do this,” he sighs, folding his hands behind his head. She cuddles up next to him, a hand on his taut stomach, head on his chest. She draws a random shape on him, trying to gather up her courage. “A whole night together. What a present, Stevie.”

She sits up on her elbow, leaning over him. Resting her forearm on his chest doesn’t bother him at all. “This isn’t your present.”

He makes a confused face, asking, “It’s not?”

“No.” _It’s time, Steph,_ she thinks, and sits up all the way. Bucky rises up halfway, but Steph presses his shoulders down. He lets her, easily, settling back into the sheets. They’ve done something like this before, necked in all sorts of positions. But what she has planned for tonight is brand new to them both. “I was thinking, Buck, why don’t we try something new?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

She fingers the hem of her Dad’s sweater, several sizes too big for her but comfortable anyway. Other than her equally comfortable home-pants and panties, she’s not wearing anything else. Bucky notices her fingers, long and bony as they are, and looks up, wide-eyed.

“Steph -- “

“Do you wanna touch me,” she half-asks, half-says. A blush reddens her entire face. Suddenly, she isn’t sure of this. She’s heard the horror stories of letting a boy touch you, and then never hearing from him again, because they’re done with you. Bucky wouldn’t do that, would he? _No,_ she tells herself harshly, _he wouldn’t._ He’s the best guy in the whole world; _her_ best guy.

“Your -- ?” He chokes, eyes so wide they’re like dinner plates. Both of his hands reach out half-way, unsure and hesitant.

She nods, heat in her stomach and her cheeks. She feels young and dumb and in love.

“O-okay. Yeah. Do I -- ?”

She reaches out the rest of the way, gripping his wrist and pulling his hand to her chest. For a second, he’s frozen, hand just laying there. Steph is slight, small in lots of ways including this one. Bucky inhales sharply, fingers moving, squeezing. There’s not much to squeeze. She still gasps, mouth dropping open. His other hand joins in, and soon enough, his grasp is firmer.

They move, reposition themselves so Steph sits up against the wall and Bucky sits in front of her, legs folded and stretched to accommodate her. Her own legs rest on his thighs -- it’s new and intimate and she feels so hot she may burst into flames. Bucky holds her in a different way, now, getting a feel for everything. Almost on accident, his thumb swipes over her nipple, which tightens so quickly Steph goes breathless.

Bucky’s pupils are dilated. This isn’t like that time he got a concussion from getting his head slammed into a brick wall; this is more like that time Bucky got to stay the night and woke up pressing his hips into the couch cushions. He catches her gaze, and they decide, without talking, that it’s time to take her sweater off.

She sits up, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor. Self-consciousness washes over her, and though she doesn’t try to hide from him -- she _wants_ him to see, she _does_ \-- she can’t watch his reaction.

Maybe she should have.

She gasps and jumps when Bucky touches her again, skin to skin now. Goosebumps rise all over her, from the cold and from the delicious feeling. Bucky breathes out heavily, shakily, adjusting his touch.

She looks down, watches him cup her. This time, when he rubs her nipple, it’s no accident. She meets his eyes, quirking an eyebrow, suddenly brave. It’s a challenge if he’s ever seen one, and she’s glad for it. He mumbles, “Can I -- ?” and then _pinches her_.

She jumps, giggling. She oughta do that to Bucky, see what he thinks. “Do that again,” she dares.

He does, smiling ruggedly and so cutely that Steph _has_ to pull him down into a kiss. His tongue parts her lips and the dual stimulation makes her pull away.

“Bucky,” she moans, not loud enough to be heard through the paper-thin walls. “Mmm.”

He kisses her again, breath puffing out against her lips, cheek, neck. “God, Stevie, this is...amazing. I love this present, lemme repay you, doll.”

“O-okay, Buck. How’re you gonna do that?”

He moves so he’s lying over top of her, not pressing down for fear of crushing her. Tomorrow, or whenever this is over, she’ll tell him she can take his weight. But for now, she’s a-okay with it. He looks up at her once he’s level with her breasts, presses a kiss to her collarbone. “Arthur told me other stuff, y’know.”

And then, without saying anything else, he kisses her nipple, sucks at it like a babe.

“Oh, _God_.”

The next five minutes are perhaps some of the best of her life, as Bucky learns how to use his teeth and Steph learns how much she likes suction. They end up in a precarious position, Bucky resting between her thighs. It’s _delicious_.

Of course, somehow, Ma knew they’d end up like this. And of course, she’s not about to let them just get away with it. A knock interrupts them just as Bucky presses their hips together.

They both groan, heads dropping back. Bucky rolls off her, looking rumpled and kiss-bitten and beautiful. They both glance down -- with a blush, Steph says, “Should I -- I should get the door. Yeah. Where’s my shirt?”

Pink in the cheeks as well, Bucky reaches over the side and picks it up off the floor. “Here.”

She pulls it on, kisses his cheek, and opens the door. She has an uncomfortable conversation with old Mrs. Hämäläinen, who eyes her messy hair and swollen lips and very pointedly ignores the way the sweater is pulled all the way down in the back.

“Sarah asked me to check in on you,” is the first thing said, also confirming Steph’s assumptions.

As soon as she gets back to the bedroom -- _and oh jeez_ , she thinks, _I’m going to have to wash the sheets before Ma gets back_ \-- she’s going to tell him her Ma is more sneaky than they thought. She steps into the room, and finds Bucky on the bed, palm on his bulge. As soon as he sees her looking, he flushes as red as she does, and jerks his hand away.

“Hey, Buck, guess what?”

“What?”

“Ma sent Mrs. Hämäläinen to check on us.”

“Doesn’t trust us, huh?” He chuckles. “Not that she should. Look at us, Stevie.”

She laughs, too, and crawls onto the bed next to him. “This is all your doing, Buck.”

“You’re the one who let me touch first, so it’s _your_ doing. Not my fault I have good ideas.”

“Not your fault Arthur gave you _his_ ideas,” she corrects, pulling at his shirt so he’ll sit up. Once he’s upright, she kisses his cheek, his nose. He laughs, nuzzling into her. They lean back against the pillows together, snuggling again. “We should do that again.”

“Mm, yeah, we should. Tomorrow?”

She laughs loudly, shaking her head. “No, I already feel...weird there.” Somehow, she doesn’t feel embarrassed saying that.

Bucky rubs at her back, “Okay. Whatever you want.”

Steph inhales against him, breathing in his scent. He smells like sweat and something she can’t put her finger on but loves anyway.

They lay in bed for a while, longer than they should considering the sheets and when Ma’s expected home. She doesn’t say anything though -- it’s too nice lying on his solid but thin chest.

“Stevie?” He whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this is premature, and please don’t think you have to say yes, but...will you marry me? Someday?” After a moment where she doesn’t answer, processing, he continues, “Not -- not right now, or soon, even. In the future, whenever we’re ready.”

And really, his earnestness seals the deal. Not that she has any objections otherwise. “Yes, yes I will. Whenever we’re ready.”


	3. THREE -- 1934

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underage, consensual grinding -- Bucky is 18, Steph is newly 17.
> 
> This chapter is fluffy, but the next three are gonna be significantly more angsty.

It turns out, being engaged warms Ma Barnes right up. It was embarrassing and nerve wracking telling her and Ma that Bucky had given her a promise ring, a simple band that Steph never wants to take off ever again. Well, it had been right up until she showed them -- Ma gave her a watery smile and hugged her tight, while Ma Barnes had told Bucky, “You better give her a rock when you two really get engaged.” -- when it had become confusing.

Bucky tells her as soon as Ma and Ma Barnes go off talking about them, “I asked everybody I know what I should do. Ma’s the one who told me to make it a promise, instead of a real-deal type of ring.” Which is -- a change that Steph has trouble adjusting to. When she tells him so, he laughs and pulls her close. “I think she’s resigned that we’re in it for the long haul.”

She snuggles close and replies, “Good, because I don’t plan on getting rid of you.”

“I hope not,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

Suddenly, when she and Bucky go to his place instead of hers, Ma Barnes is nothing but nice to her, has nothing but nice things to say.

There are other, smaller changes that happen overnight, but the biggest one by far is how they get to spend the night together much more often. Most nights, Ma is there, which means they keep it appropriate. Sometimes, she’s gone all day and comes home once they’ve already gotten into bed. He usually sleeps on the couch, but on those days, they fall asleep in bed. Ma doesn’t try to wake him up, just resigns herself to the couch. Steph feels bad, but it doesn’t happen often enough to change it. 

Bucky still spends most of his nights at his place. It feels like they’re together every night if only because they rarely got to, before.

It’s two days before her birthday when things...shift again.

Steph’s embarrassed to say they spend a lot of their time together in bed. They talk, they sleep, they cuddle, they neck like the world is going to end. And today is no different -- Ma’s got work until six, and then is going to a friends’ house until eight. It’s only ten in the morning, so they have plenty of time.

They’ve been up a while, lazing around and talking about how Steph’s almost done with school. She doesn’t have her glasses on, never does in bed, but Bucky’s so close she doesn’t need them.

Bucky says into her chest where he lays, “Once you’re out, I’m gonna take you wherever you wanna go, and we’ll get to stay as long as we want.”

She runs her fingers through his hair, scritching at his scalp with her short nails. He sighs happily and sinks into her, not scared of crushing her for once. “Anywhere?”

“Within reason,” he adds, jokingly. “I don’t got that much money, y’know.”

“I know. Still sweet of you, though.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Sweetie Barnes.”

She slaps his shoulder, giggling. “Hush, Bucky, I’m trying to be cute and girlfriend-y.”

He gets up on his elbows, forearms going under her to pull her close. She arches, pressing her shoulders into the mattress so she doesn’t have to lean up. It’s not very comfortable, but she knows he’s only doing it to be, in her words, boyfriend-y. “You’re my fiancée, Stevie, not my girlfriend.”

“Well, in that case,” she pulls him back down, into a kiss. He huffs a laugh against her lips, which only gives her permission to try to stick her tongue down his throat.

It takes no time at all for them to get to that point it’s hard to come back from, the point they’ve shied away from since Bucky’s birthday. 

They’re both still in their pajamas, Bucky in long johns and a t-shirt, and Steph in a long, hand-me-down nightgown. He reaches down with one hand and tugs, pulling the hem up inch by inch. She helps, knowing exactly what he’s thinking; as soon as it’s up to her hips, the taut barrier of her nightgown is gone, and he can get closer -- much closer.

Yeah, it’s real easy to get to that point. Bucky’s between her legs, after all, and even though they’re small, they’re great at holding him close to her.

His bulge presses against her, pressure in all the right places. They’ve been together for almost three years now, and they’ve toed this line before. Now, with Bucky an adult and Steph on the verge of being seventeen, it feels like they don’t have to run screaming if they cross it.

“Mm,” he groans, rocking his hips into hers experimentally.

And -- oh. Oh jeez.

They both moan at the same time, and Steph adds, “Do that again, Buck, do it again.”

Flushed, he does. Steph’s got just panties on, and Bucky’s long johns are thin. She can feel everything, the slide of him against her, the way she’s getting slick. She can  _ feel  _ how hard he is. He rocks again, pressing into her differently, and she gasps as he causes friction on her clit. He groans at that, repeating the move.

They rock for a while, heat rising. Sweat starts to gather between them, where skin touches skin.  _ There’s not nearly enough _ , Steph thinks, sliding a hand under Bucky’s shirt. He’s so warm, and even though she can feel his ribs, he feels solid against her. 

“Steph.”

“Mm?”

He mumbles against her lips, “Can I try somethin’?”

In the past, when he’s asked her that, she’s said yes, expecting the worse, only to be pleasantly surprised by his smart ideas. “‘Course,” she says, tightening her grip around his shoulders and sliding her hand up higher.

He gets his knees under him, pressed up against her thighs and bottom. Her knees, he bends and folds over the small of his back. In quick succession, she’s lifted up, a pillow is slid under her, and then he’s using his new leverage to roll his hips again.

In the following, oh, eternity, Steph slides her other hand under his shirt and ends up scratching him when he rubs against her a certain way. He likes that, inexplicably, and groans loud enough that surely everyone in the building heard.

She scratches him again, not hard enough to bleed but there are raised lines. Later on, when Steph has her glasses on, they’re going to inspect them and blush bright red.

He breathes into the crook of her neck, presses sucking kisses behind her ear. He says, “Hold on,” and rolls them over, making sure Steph’s hands aren’t under him when he stops on his back.

Steph’s sitting solidly on his hips, on his erection; any and all thoughts go out the window. Even being unable to see him as well seems unimportant. “Oh my god,” she moans, trying to roll her hips the way Bucky did it. “Mm,  _ Bucky _ .”

She learns quickly that it’s fun on top, especially when Bucky’s fingers pull her panties to the side and the only thing between them are his thin long johns. His fingers don’t leave, instead sliding through her slick lips. He touches her in that spot that makes her see stars, and she holds his wrist in place there, lets him push her higher and higher until she’s coming.

She moans, dropping so it’s muffled by his chest. Bucky rolls them back over and grinds until he’s shooting off; he rests back down on her, catching his breath.

“Oh my god,” Steph says again.

“M’name’s Bucky,” he mumbles like an asshole. He only laughs when she smacks his shoulder, snuggling in again. It’s different, now -- she feels like she knows him more than she ever has, has seen a new side of him, the last one she wasn’t familiar with. It’s  _ amazing _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, I'm done with part four and finishing up part five right now, so this should be completed quickly. Thanks for reading!!


	4. FOUR -- 1936

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No underage in this chapter.

They go to the courthouse, Ma walking between them and the Barneses trailing behind. Steph should be happy, in her best dress and with flowers Bucky bought just for today in hand, but she’s mostly just anxious. Ma is sick, worse than she’s ever been before. She’s been coughing for almost two weeks, and Steph caught blood on her handkerchief five days ago. For three days, Steph and Sarah argued like cats and dogs.

“You’re dying, Ma,” Steph had shouted, finally acknowledging it. That was the day before yesterday; she’d ran all the way to the Barnes’ and flung herself into Bucky’s arms the second the door opened. He took her to the kids’ room, shooed out Ray and Rachel, and held her as she cried and cried. He’d walked her home after dinner, and they’d talked about their options. Bucky could move in and help with everything, but considering they aren’t married, it was taboo. So why not get married? Yesterday had been telling everyone and getting everything ready.

Ma and Dad Barnes had both looked shocked, but were on board. Ma Barnes offered one of Alice’s dresses, but considering Alice is two years younger and not that much bigger, Steph just asked her to tailor one of Ma’s old dresses so it fit her. Ma Barnes had got it done so quickly, it’s a wonder she only does laundry and cleaning for her work. All of the Barnes kids help, too, and got their best clothes together to be washed.

Everything is cobbled together and tense. Ma’s lost a little weight, and considering she was already slight, it’s obvious. Despite it all, every one of them looks good. Steph and Bucky don’t own or have the money to rent a white dress and tux, so while Steph wears Ma’s old dress, Bucky’s wearing his nicest khakis and a clean, ironed white button up. Steph has a feeling Baby is going to spill something on him, but then, Ma Barnes is holding her and isn’t likely to let the clumsy little girl anywhere near Bucky’s shirt.

Before they walk into the courthouse, Ma Barnes makes sure everyone, even Ma, is ready. This isn’t the grand ceremony Bucky used to dream of or the marriage-less future Steph imagined, but it’s theirs.

They all wait in line for nearly an hour. Steph gets tired quickly and leans on Bucky, but pulls away and lets Ma lean on her when she starts to fatigue. By the time they get to the makeshift altar, they’re all sweating. Steph is sort of glad that there won’t be any pictures of this -- when she inevitably draws it, she can make the sweat look better. But really, when it comes down to it, all she cares about it Bucky saying, “I, James Buchanan Barnes, take you, Stephanie Grace Rogers, to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

She’ll never forget that. Ever, not as long as she lives.

The rest -- her repeating the same words but opposite to Bucky, their first kiss as husband and wife, the walk to the Barnes’ place and the party with Arnie, who couldn’t get off work to make it no matter what he tried -- is a pleasant haze. Even when Baby does spill her juice on Bucky, and then Rose and Alex try to help clean it up and only make it worse. She’s blocked out the moment that Ma, and Ma and Dad Barnes pull them aside and for Dad Barnes to say, “You two will be spending the night at the Rogers’, and Sarah will be here.”

“I expect the sheets to be clean when I return for lunch on the seventeenth.”

Steph covers her red face, laughing embarrassedly. “ _ Ma _ .”

Bucky laughs, too, and throws an arm over her shoulders. “They will be, Ma Rogers.”

Ma Barnes says, “You might as well call us both Ma, and George can be Dad to you, Steph.”

“Okay, Ma B-- “ She shakes her head. “That’ll take some getting used to.”

She laughs, now, boisterous. “There are some other things tonight that’ll take some getting used to, honey. Why don’t you go on, slip out while we distract the little ones?”

They do slip out, after hugs and cheek kisses for all three parents. Steph is fire-engine red the entire time. Bucky is flustered, too, but somehow, he doesn’t seem embarrassed at all that their parents and probably Alice and Willie and maybe even Becca all know what they’re about to do.

Truthfully, Steph isn’t quite sure. She knows what they’re supposed to do, what’s expected of them. She knows they have slick just in case, and condoms because neither one of them want a child yet. But she isn’t sure she wants to do that tonight, and she isn’t sure what Bucky wants, either.

They walk the two and a half blocks hand-in-hand, nearly touching. She watches his face, notes how he seems happy and confident and strong, if a bit diminished from his usual self. He catches her look and bumps their shoulders with a smirk. She rolls her eyes at him -- it’s a whole conversation told in just gestures.

Of course, words become necessary when they walk into the apartment.

They both toe off their shoes, Bucky offering his arm for balance. Steph smiles sweetly, says, “Thanks,  _ Mr. Barnes _ .”

He catches on instantly; she’s got a brainiac. He puts on a formal tone, one she’d expect from a rich man, and lifts his chin to really emulate one. “Of course, Mrs. Barnes. Shall I escort you to our bed for the night?”

“Why, you may, dear husband,” she mimics, giggling.

In his normal tone, he asks, “Can I lift you?” She nods, so he puts that tone back on. “Please, let me do the honors,” and then he picks her up in a bridal carry. She nuzzles into his chest, sad that she’s got her bad ear to his heartbeat so she can’t hear it. When he sets her on the bed, he whispers into her good ear, “What do you want to do?”

“It’s our wedding night,” she says, like the answer is obvious. Still, the thought of it makes her nervous. She’s been psyching herself up for almost five years, now.

His eyes drag over her face, squinting a little. She tries not to fidget -- she wants this to be good for him, and she knows if he sniffs out any hesitation in her, he won’t get to do what he wants. She doesn’t manage it, because he pulls away and says, “We can do anything you want, Stevie.”

She crosses her arms across her chest, anticipating an argument. “I want to do what  _ you  _ want to do.”

“Stevie, I want to do what  _ you  _ want. Which means we have to come to a compromise, here.” He pushes some hair behind her ear, not a bit frustrated. “How about this -- we decide where we want to stop when we get there.”

And, well -- that doesn’t sound so bad. “Okay. Let me take my glasses off before we start.” She barely gets them set on the side table before he’s pulling her back onto the bed, manhandling her gently.

“What are you doing?” She laughs, trying to wiggle away.

“Trying to get you undressed.”

She giggles again, and pulls him down by his shirt for a kiss. This, at least, is familiar, and it’s easy to get lost in it. Bucky settles between her legs, and she thinks, for a moment, that they’re going to do what they always do -- until he kisses down her neck and into the dip of her collarbone.

She tries to arch, tries to press their hips together, but he slinks down her body, slow. So slow, in fact, that Steph manages to rub against his thigh -- until he reaches down and holds her hips against the mattress.

“ _ Bucky _ ,” she huffs, absolutely does not whine, because he’s torturing her and his smile is wide enough for her to feel it against her skin. He doesn’t respond, just sucks bruises on her chest and pulls the fabric of the dress away to reveal more skin. It takes no time at all for the stretchy neckline to be pulled down to reveal her breasts.

They’ve learned a lot about her body in the past two years, and his too -- the biggest takeaway being that Steph likes it when Bucky pinches, sucks, or bites her nipples, but Bucky likes it much more than she does -- capital-L  _ Likes  _ it. Still, it’s nice --  _ very  _ nice.

He keeps going, pushing her dress up to her neck and then completely off, leaving her in just her panties, and leaves a trail of love bites down her chest, in the valley between her breasts down to her belly button. He laughs and sticks his tongue in her belly button, and laughs some more when she tries to wiggle him off, squealing.

She watches him do all of this with what can only be adoration, which shines back at her when he glances at her, gauging her reactions. As soon as he’s below her belly button, he looks up -- “Can I keep going?”

And -- Bucky’s  _ told  _ her about this, in whispers behind the bleachers, has made heat pool in her cheeks and stomach at just the  _ thought  _ \-- she of course says, “Yes.”

Bucky’s an asshole and reads the excitement clear in her voice, slithers down some more and ignores all of her skin covered by her panties. He kisses and licks her thighs and calves, doesn’t look away from her face the entire time. He does it to one leg, then the other, lifting them up and sitting so he doesn’t fall right off the bed trying to give her a love bite on her ankle. It’s unnecessary, and not even that fun, she thinks until he makes his way back up and dips his fingers in the hem of her underwear. Suddenly, she appreciates the build up. He’s her brainiac, after all, and he always knows what he’s doing, especially when it comes to this.

“Can I take these off?” He snaps the waistband, not enough to hurt, and chuckles at her enthusiastic nod. “Lift up, then.”

She does, lifting her bottom up and then lifting her legs so he could slide her panties off. She’s not embarrassed; he’s never been so close to her, never had such a view, but they’re married, now. She trusts him with everything, including this. Still, she has to give him a hard time  _ somehow _ , and doesn’t lower her legs, keeps them held together.

He peeks around, mirth in his eyes. “Stevie, whatcha doin’?”

Trying for nonchalant, she replies, “I’m ready, Buck. What’s taking so long?”

“We can’t -- you makin’ me do all the work?” He abruptly changes subject in the middle of his sentence, slips his fingers in the space between her calves.

“No,” she insists, though really, it’s fun to make him do this -- he’s knows more than she does. Or, well, he knows more of the fun parts than she does. She knows the medical facts behind it all.

“Mhm, okay,” he says, all faux-exasperated, and gently pries her legs apart. She shifts, impatient and a teensy bit embarrassed, she’ll admit it, while he gets a good look.

“ _ Buck _ .”

His eyes flick up, meet hers. He smirks, all the boyish charm people insist he has replaced by something more adult. “What? Stevie, I’m just gettin’ a lay’a the land.”

“Well hurry up, we ain’t got all day,” she huffs.

“We got two,” Bucky agrees, finally lowering his mouth. He kisses the creases where her thighs meet her stomach, noses at her hair, takes his sweet time. She’s thinking about thumping his shoulder to get him to go at anything better than a snail’s pace, when he finally, finally goes where she wants him.

He’s hesitant, kissing chastely before employing his tongue. It’s a kitten lick, it barely touches her, but she jumps, once again suddenly more than happy he was so slow. He seems to try her on for size, ignoring the way she breathes heavy and squirms. He grows bold, trying new things -- he points his tongue and goes up and down, flattens it and licks up to her clit,  _ sucks  _ on her clit which almost gets him a scream. He uses two of his fingers, slides in one at a time and lets her adjust before doing anything more. When he finally does move his fingers, he wiggles them, not quite sure what to do, experiments until he presses on something that has her seeing stars.

She comes, twice.

When Bucky comes up for air, she uses her grip in his hair to guide him into a kiss. She can taste herself; curiosity and heat have her trying to lick the taste out of his mouth. He groans, thrusts his hips against her trying to get some friction. He’s still in his nice khakis, but they, along with his nice shirt, are creased, unsalvageable without an ironing. She uses all of her strength to flip them, which is made easier by the fact that Bucky is more than eager to be on his back.

She doesn’t waste any time -- she settles on his hips, unbuttons his shirt, pulls it out of his pants and gives as good as she got. His chest is about as big as hers, just a tad smaller; he whines but doesn’t complain when she sucks on each pebbled nipple. His hand cradles the back of her head, pulls her hair away from her face.

Steph loves to please him -- so much of their time spent like this is him pleasing her, making her come more times than she can really handle. She won’t come again, and they probably won’t go all the way, but she can do for him what he just did for her -- or the equivalent, anyway. In the meantime, because she is going to be mean to him and make him wait longer than he already has, she rolls her hips against his and pinches his neglected nipple.

Now it’s him bucking his hips up, drawing out, “ _ Steeevie _ .”

“Stop it, Buck, I’m not done with this yet. And we got two days, so there’s no need to hurry, right?”

He can’t disagree, but in the end, Steph goes easy on him. She palms him through his pants, first, then undoes his belt and has him take them and his briefs off.

She has seen his cock before, from across the room. Sometimes, when they got too riled up, he’d make Steph go off like a bottle rocket and come onto a rag he always cleans out vigorously before he leaves. She’s even touched it, through his pants. It different, seeing it up close and getting to touch it without a barrier -- he’s not so big she’s scared of taking him inside her, but he’s not small, either. As soon as it’s free, it pops up; Bucky wraps his fingers around it near the bottom, grips it tight. She hesitates to touch it, skin to skin; Bucky grins and asks, “You scared, Stevie?”

Steph’s not going to back down to a challenge like  _ that _ . She touches with just her fingertips, sweeps them down from the tip to his own fingers. He shivers, makes a soft noise as she wraps her hand loosely around him, moving up and down.

“Good?” She asks, watching his face and continuing her ministrations.

“Mm, tighten your grip.”

“Won’t that...hurt?”

He shakes his head. “No, watch.” He lets go of himself, licks his palm, and shows her how he likes it -- tight but not too tight, steady paced. He twists his wrist as he gets to the top, a little breath exhaling as he goes back down.

“Let me try,” she says once she’s seen him do it a few times. She mimics him, but he still ends up putting his hand over hers and tightening her grip until it’s just how he likes it. His hips jerk up a few times, throwing her off. Steph tsks at him, using her free hand to keep them still against the bed.

_ Which, _ she thinks,  _ would be easier if I was closer. _ And anyway, that’d been her plan -- tit for tat, quid pro quo and all that.

She doesn’t know a lot about suckjobs, just what Bucky’s learned through Arthur and other boys and related back to her. She knows she’s got to cover her teeth so she doesn’t bite him on accident, and that she shouldn’t swallow when he comes, at least not yet. And, and this is maybe the most important part, she knows from doing this, right now, that he likes to be touched under the head, on the backside, where there’s a vein.

Steph lets go of him, clambering on her knees to scoot down. His eyes widen, shining blue in the light coming from the bedroom window. Something like doubt makes the lines of his face more obvious. “Stevie, you -- you don’t have to.”

He really means that, really wouldn’t mind if she just jerked him until he came. Which is unacceptable -- they’re  _ married  _ now, and she’s going to keep this, at least, equal.

“I want to,” she says strongly, so there’s no chance of him giving her another out. Then, because she’s a little shit, she lowers herself between his legs so her mouth is barely an inch and a half away from his cock. It’s not...cute, exactly, but then, it’s not supposed to be. What matters is that she can see all of it, much clearer.

Bucky’s hips shift again, seemingly bashful. His cock may not be cute, but he sure is.

She considers him for a moment, making a plan. Executing it should be fine, right? 

As it turns out, she doesn’t know nearly enough for it to go fine. Bucky likes some of the things she does, like licking and then sucking on the tip, and following the veins with her tongue. He likes when she curiously touches his sac, likes when she kisses his shaft. He really,  _ really  _ likes when she tries to fit him inside her mouth and can only get so far before she starts gagging. He freaks out, thinking she’s going to devolve into an asthma attack, and then once it’s clear she’s not, he’s hesitant to let her try again.

“I can do this,” she snaps, and then  _ does _ , makes him whine in the back of his throat and moan and curse under his breath until he’s coming.

Steph learns very quickly she doesn’t like the taste of semen.

Bucky’s an asshole and laughs when she spits it all out on him, but is kind enough to get them both cleaned up. They take a quick shower together, long enough to wash their hair and bodies and get out. Luckily, no one is waiting, and so they can book it back to the apartment quickly.

She doesn’t even get to brush her hair before Bucky’s pulling her back to bed, this time to sleep. She goes willingly, laughing as they settle down.

“What?”

“I just  _ sucked your cock _ ,” she giggles, feeling adult and mature and strangely sexual.

Bucky, uncharacteristically scandalized, flushes high in his cheeks. “ _ Stevie _ , Jesus, don’t just  _ say  _ that.”

“Why not? You’re my husband, Bucky. I’ll say what I want.”

They have a staring contest. And this is a test -- he’s been okay with her doing what she wants their entire lives, but now she’s his wife, and he might want to tighten the reins. He understands all of that, reading it in her eyes.

He sighs, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Yeah, okay. I won’t argue with that.”

Steph smiles indulgently, snuggling into him. “Good.”

And good it is.


	5. FIVE -- 1936

Ma dies on October 19th, just over a month after Steph and Bucky get married. It happens at Seaview, where lots of TB patients are being treated, while Steph and Bucky are taking advantage of a day off.

The hospital calls the building, and Dmitri from downstairs comes knocking. When Steph finds out that Ma died, she’s standing at the door, talking to a boy barely any older than her while she’s wearing one of Bucky’s shirts and house pants, hair a mess and lips swollen. It’s the absolute worst day of her life, and it’s made worse by the fact that her Ma died in pain while she fooled around with Bucky.

Ma’s buried on the 23rd, next to Dad, and the only people who attend the funeral are Steph, Bucky, Bucky’s family, and a few neighbors and nurse friends of Ma’s.

Steph’s Irish, so she doesn’t cry until they get home and are all settled into bed. She cries so hard she can’t breathe, and Bucky holds her and helps her breathe right, and cries, too.

Ma Barnes comes over with the younger kids, who don’t quite get it even though everybody’s lost somebody. Some of their neighbors and friends from the block have died; it makes Steph sad but she rarely thinks about it, especially now that Ma’s gone. Anyway, Bucky’s great with them, and they like Steph well enough; Alex and Baby, the youngest, don’t really understand what it means that she and Bucky are married. Ma Barnes only ever brings the kids around when she wants to distract Steph and Bucky, and now’s as good a time as ever.

They’re in the middle of an argument when Ma Barnes and Rachel, Rose, Alex, and Baby come -- they’ve been arguing a lot, nothing major yet, but she can feel it coming on like a storm. Bucky answers the door this time, pushing his hair back (without pomade, it likes to misbehave).

They put on a good show, enough to fool the kids, even Rachel, who’s almost eleven and thinks she knows everything. Ma Barnes still pulls them aside and hugs them at the same time, whispering in their ears (Steph’s good one, thankfully) that she’s there for them and they’ll be okay.

She has to hide herself in their bedroom when Baby asks about when Auntie Sarah is coming back.

It’s not a good day, made worse by her crying until her eyes puff up and then waking up sick in the middle of the night. Forget  _ not a good day _ , it’s not a good month. And she means that literally, because it’s hard to do anything fun without thinking about Ma. It’s extremely hard to kiss and touch and come with Bucky, because surely, Ma is looking down on them and she doesn’t want to see them having sex, right?

That’s what Steph’s mind tells her whenever Bucky offers to go down under the covers, between her legs, or presses his stiffy into her in the groggy part of the mornings. They’ve been going slow, still; he often comes home from work too tired to finally consummate the marriage, and when she’s not panicking about Ma seeing them, she’s sick. Plus, their arguments start to add on to themselves, getting bigger and bigger. It’s weird, and upsetting, and she hates it. 

She doesn’t  _ tell  _ him any of that, of course she doesn’t. She just lets everything blow up and get worse until they have easily the worst argument they’ve ever had.

It’s dumb, really, about all the little things that they’ve butted heads over since they got married, and then it turns into the fights Steph has been getting into, and Steph shouts, “I’m  _ so tired _ of you being so overbearing and mother-henning me -- stop worrying about me!  _ I’m fine! _ ”

“I only worry about you so much because  _ I love you _ ,” he shouts back, not one to stand down and also making it clear he thinks she’s an idiot for not understanding that.

Bucky’s said  _ I love you _ before. When she got her Rites for the first time, and when he proposed. After the funeral, he murmured it to her as she cried. He’s never said it like  _ this _ , though, and embarrassingly, tears shoot to her eyes. She covers her face immediately; she’s been crying so much lately and Bucky’s so receptive to it, so sensitive. She hates crying, and she hates crying in front of him more.

“Aww, Stevie,” he mutters, anger gone in the face of her tears.  H e steps forward, wraps her up in his arms. She presses her forehead against his chest, weeping. They’ve gotten good at this; he pets her hair, murmurs indistinct, comforting things into her hair over her bad ear.

He brings her to their room, doesn’t undress either one of them before getting them under the blankets. It’ll be the morning before they apologize, rested and embarrassed and willing to compromise.

It’s better, after that. They get along better, and it helps Steph with her grief; the embarrassment of being any kind of intimate with Bucky starts to fade away. Every night that they don’t just sleep, they get farther and farther than they ever have before.

When another month has passed, they finally consummate their marriage.

She has one of her better days, where she feels real good and doesn’t complain about the chores she’s stuck with. When Bucky comes home, he’s in a good mood, kissing her cheek and changing into comfortable clothes real quick, so he doesn’t have to eat dinner in his sweaty slacks. He looks real handsome with his suspenders on, his hair falling into his face. And he compliments her dinner, even though it’s pretty bland like most of their food is.

After dinner, they sit on the couch together, Steph sketching him like always and Bucky reading more books. Really, they haven’t changed that much.

“Can I see?” Bucky asks after a while.

She stares down at the portrait of Bucky complaining about how hot he gets when it’s so cold out, and thinks about how he always loves her drawings. “Okay,” she says and turns her sketchbook around. He loves it, of course he does, and wants to see more.

Eventually, they move so she’s tucked under his arm. For the first time, she shows him all of her art.

When they retire for the evening, they walk the same way they were sitting, with Steph tucked into his side. They change into their pajamas quickly, and Steph puts her hair up. From where he sits on the bed, he notices; she only puts her hair up when she’s about to paint, or when they’re getting frisky.

“We doin’ somethin’ tonight?”

“Can we?”

H e leans back against the pillows -- they don’t have lots, but there’s enough that it’s comfortable -- and shrugs. She can’t help but notice how nice his shoulders look when he’s shirtless. “Whatever you want, Stevie.”

She walks around to his side of the bed, gets up on her knees and crawls so she’s in his lap. Immediately, his hands come up to rest on her hips; she puts her own on his chest, caresses. She’s taller than him, like this, and so he’s looking up at her, under his eyelashes, smiling real wide. People still say that Bucky could do better; Steph knows there’s nothing better than this, than  _ him _ .

“I want to...have sex, tonight.” Steph finally feels ready, and anyway, they’ve waited long enough.

His eyes widen, just a bit. “You sure?” He’s real good at trusting her to know what she wants and not questioning her; she nods and that’s the end of it. “Okay. Okay, I need to get a rubber before we -- “

“C’mon, we don’t need one right now.” Some part of her doesn’t want him to wear a rubber. They spent money on them, and they should be used -- and Steph doesn’t want kids, not right now, at least -- but she just wants to be as close to him as possible. She doesn’t want any barriers between them. She grabs his jaw, holds him steady so she can lean down and kiss him.

They kiss for long moments, breaking away to gasp in breaths. He stiffens under her, slides his hands down her so they rest on the back of her thighs. She rolls her hips, and they both groan.

“Mm,  _ Stevie _ .” Bucky thrusts up, meeting her as she rolls again, and sparks go off behind Steph’s eyes.  T here’s a sudden urgency, a feeling like if she doesn’t have him  _ right now _ she’ll -- 

She hurries her pace, even as he keeps her in his lap and scoots down the bed.  _ All the better, _ she thinks, using his chest for leverage. He feels hot and hard underneath her, thick, like he’s where he belongs. Soon they’re both gasping, and Bucky’s mumbling, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath.

“Thought you wanted to do more than just rut like teenagers tonight,” Bucky says, a beautiful flush high in his cheeks. Even through all the layers -- their underwear and sleeping pants -- he’s getting pleasure, which only makes Steph happier.

“I do,” she pants, quirking an eyebrow. “What, you not gonna last much longer?”

And isn’t that a challenge. He flips them, gives her a bruising kiss. They pull away only long enough to take off their clothes; Bucky distracts her by pinching her nipples, so she distracts him by grabbing his cock and giving it a few good pumps. He curses but is gentle when he pulls her hand away. Of course, he spends some time between her legs, sliding in one finger, then two, then a third. He curls them how she likes, suckles at her clit, makes her come. She’s still coming down when he slips on the rubber and pushes inside.

It hurts, but not like how she’s imagined. She’s heard about this from Ma and Bucky like she’s heard of everything, and she’s always expected something out of one of Bucky’s science fiction novels where she splits right in half and can’t be put back together. That’s not what happens -- Bucky just goes slow until he’s all the way in and stops, lets her adjust and peppers her with soft, chaste kisses. Her heartbeat is pumping in her ears; she can’t really tell, but she thinks she’s making a noise.

“You okay?”

There are tears pricking in Steph’s eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. The pain is bearable -- a tight pinching feeling, sharp and stinging, nothing like a black eye or bruise -- and she doesn’t want to scare Bucky.

She swallows, licks her lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll be -- you can move, in a second. Wait, wait a -- “

“I’ll move whenever you let me know I can, Stevie, just relax, relax honey, my sweetheart, you’re doing real good. Real, real good, baby doll.”

It takes a few minutes before she gives him the go ahead. When he slides out, keeping his head tucked warm and safe inside her, fireworks go off in her head. There’s still pain, but the pleasure is exquisite, it’s amazing, how did they  _ wait  _ so long -- ? 

She grabs his biceps and holds on, throws her legs behind his back. He moves like a saw, in and out, in and out, steady and easy. He’s sure moaning like he’s dying, though, and she is too. Five years they’ve been together, five years they’ve waited for this, and Jesus God, it is  _ amazing _ .

“Faster,” she grits out, but he just shakes his head.

“No, Stevie, can’t. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Of course he’d say that. Steph rolls her eyes, huffing. “You won’t. I’m not made of glass, Buck.” Otherwise, this would be no fun, she doesn’t say, though she wants to remember that for later. Bucky’d get a real kick outta it. 

“I know that,” he huffs in return, allowing her one -- just one, curse him -- thrust that’s not as soft and slow. And dammit, it’s exactly what she wants, but he’s too stubborn.

“Do that again,” she dares. He rarely backs down from dares, even ones not so obvious, like this one.

But he doesn’t fall for the bait, just curls around her and using his free hand to rub her nearly-overstimulated clit to another orgasm. She’s louder than she’s ever been before, and immediately slaps a hand over her mouth because  _ shit _ , the Smiths next door have children and they love to berate her and Bucky with their dumb, posh accents.

He comes half a second after her, just as loud and long. The rubber filling up is an extraordinarily odd feeling, but the thought of him coming inside her, even with the rubber, sends shivers up and down her crooked spine.

He collapses on top of her for all of five seconds, just long enough to catch his breath, before he’s gently pulling out. The pleasant feelings all leave in a moment, replaced by a bereft, cold,  _ empty  _ feeling. Bucky presses a kiss to her forehead and sweeps out of the room, leaving her on the bed.

_ Holy shit _ , she thinks, even though it’s not ladylike. She’s not a lady, and anyway, Bucky thinks it’s attractive. It doesn’t matter, not right now; she has more important things to think about. Like how they just had sex. And how said crooked spine aches, now that she’s not focused on Bucky, and how her heartbeat is thudding a hair too fast in her core (which, to be fair, is not wholly unusual after he's been down there). To the sound of the water faucet in the sink squealing on and releasing water, she stretches, groaning as her spine cracks.

Steph yawns, then -- it is well after their bedtime, after all -- and stretches out her legs, too. She doesn’t want any cramps or charlie horses.

Bucky comes back as soon as she’s finishing rolling both of her ankles, already cleaned up. He’s brought one of their softer towels, one that’s frequently used after showers and is in need of a wash, anyway.

“You okay?” He asks, being real careful as he wipes the towel against her. It only makes her heart beat louder.

She reaches and pets his hair, trying to be sweet even though he didn’t give her quite what she wanted.  _ He’s so wonderful, _ she thinks, and answers, “Yeah. You?”

He laughs, a tinge of embarrassment coloring it. He flings the towel on the floor, a problem for their future selves, and hops back into bed with her. “I’m perfect, doll. That was...amazing.”

Teasingly, she tells him, “You were the real shining star of it all, I must say.”

“Really? ‘Cause I coulda sworn  _ you  _ were, not me.”

It goes on like that for a bit, fun and grounding, in a way. Things have changed a lot between them but their banter hasn’t.

Eventually, their yawns are too pervasive, and they settle down to sleep. It was a great day, if she does say so herself.

(Later on, when they're older and more accustomed to these things, he tells her he only went so slow the first time because he was about to shoot off. She kisses his forehead, thinking,  _ he's so dumb, but I love him, anyway. _ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, if you celebrate that!


	6. PLUS ONE -- 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quick things:  
> \-- Sylvia lives in the same apartment that Sarah, Stevie, and Bucky lived in;  
> \-- Stevie lives across the hall from Sylvia; Stevie was pregnant when she went down and gave birth to a boy named Theo;  
> \-- This is sorta mentioned, but Bucky is on a Kill-Hydra crusade and isn't staying with Stevie and Theo. He and Sam both check in on Stevie and Theo.
> 
> Also idk if I like how this turned out but I seriously rewrote this like...five times. So yeah, I'm gonna just leave it how it is.

He touches her differently, now.

It’s fitting; they aren’t who they used to be, so of course this aspect of their relationship will be different.

It’s night, or early in the morning. Pitch black outside, the only noise coming from the roads and city that sleeps. Theo is asleep across the hall in Sylvia’s apartment -- _she’s a good girl,_ Steph thinks, trying to push away the instant barrage of feelings that accompany Sylvia. And Theo, really. Both of her children cause lots of emotions she shouldn’t be focusing on right now.

Right now. Oh, right now is one of the better moments of this year.

Bucky’s alive, and he’s here, he’s _right here_ , touching her and loving her. She rarely sees him anymore -- he’s on a mission to kill all of Hydra, and while Steph wants to chase after him, _help_ _him_ , she won’t do that to Theo, not like she did to Sylvia. He stops by whenever he needs a break, whenever it’s been a while since Sam has visited. It always ends up like this, Theo with Sylvia across the hall, the two of them in Steph’s bed.

She likes to hold him down by the hips and suck the exhaustion out through his dick. The pain, the anger. Like she said, they’re different; he stays hard, allowing her to roll a condom on him and ride him until he’s satisfied. She likes seeing how many times she can make him come.

She tells him she loves him, and she forgives him for what he’s done, and she doesn’t blame him, and she loves him _so much please please right there_ \--

He likes to kiss every inch of her. He drags his hands up her sides, her thighs, uses his tongue and nose and lips and fingers to his advantage. He seems to realize that she loves it when he just _touches_ her, when his metal hand warms to the same temperature as her skin. She gives him as good as she gets, of course she does, and rubs her hands all over him.

She’s gentle with him, doesn’t make a big deal of all of his scars, and neither does he with hers. She doesn’t scratch him, even though they used to love it.

Bucky’s on top, tonight, with his knees under him and her legs sticking to his chest with sweat. His chest is heaving and his hair is falling out of its bun; he’s never looked better, if you ask her. But he’s playing his old game of teasing her with slow and steady, so she’s not about to tell him that.

The only good thing she can say about his thrusts inside her is that there’s _power_ behind them, intent. The only thing keeping her from screaming is her hand over her mouth.

He does it again, slides out nice and slow, so slow she swears she can feel every _vein_ , and then pushes back in, hard but slow. _So goddamn slow_ . She doesn’t know how he’s even _doing it_ , but she hates it anyway. (She could never hate having him with her.)

“Bucky!” She complains on a whine.

He laughs like an asshole, but the sound is so nice she can’t get mad. “What? You gonna follow that up with something or -- ?”

Oh, he is having entirely too much fun teasing her.

“Just havin’ fun, s’all,” she says, snaking a hand down to rub her clit. He growls and grabs her wrist with her metal hand -- smart, it won’t budge when she tries to wriggle out -- then returns it to where he’d left it, next to her head.

“ _Stevie_.”

“Go faster,” she grits out.

“No,” he shakes his head. He thrusts again, deep. She gasps at the feeling, but it’s not what she wants.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” she starts, “fuck me like you mean it or let me get myself off. Stop teasing me.”

“Fuck you like I mean it?” He repeats, incredulous. He recognizes the dare, and of course, he takes her up on it. He snaps his hips, fast and hard and delicious, and says, “I’ll _fuck_ you however I want to.”

She rolls into another thrust, making sharp, cut off noises in the back of her throat. “I thought we agreed I was the boss here.” That’s not necessarily true, mostly because they’ve always deferred to each other when making decisions, but in bed? Steph is bossy; Bucky is stubborn. It’s push and pull, fifty-fifty.

“I never agreed to that,” he says roughly, shifting up a little and changing the angle.

“You agreed to marry me,” she points out, moaning. God damn, he is _good_ at this.

He scoffs and pulls out. Her eyes open in a second, and she glares up at him. She starts to ask what he’s doing when he says, “Turn over.”

Which -- okay, yeah. Steph flips, managing not to kick Bucky in the process, thank god. He grabs her hips, pulling her so she’s in a presenting position, and drapes himself over her back. Even now, he’s still bigger than her -- he’s broadened, since the war, though they are still of a height.

Bucky takes his sweet damn time, again, nosing at her neck and dragging his flesh hand up to her breasts to pinch her nipples. She gasps, bites her lip.

As good as it feels, it’s not enough. “Put your dick in me,” she bosses.  
  
Bucky sighs like it’s physically painful to please her, but thank god, he listens. He takes a moment to rub his head against her clit, then slides in. Her eyes cross because _god damn_ does he stretch her good. And this time, he doesn’t go slow, he thrusts hard and fast and deep. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the whole room, just under their moans.

It doesn’t take long for her to come, a shaking orgasm that has her curling her toes and saps all the strength from her arms. Bucky pulls her up so they’re on their knees, her back to his chest; he comes, chest heaving, groaning low in his throat.

Several minutes later, they’re both cleaned up, laying under the blankets. Steph lays on her back, stares up at the ceiling, while Bucky lays on his stomach, hands under the pillow and no doubt gripping a gun or knife or some other weapon. She’s not too worried about it.

“Bucky?”

“Mm?”

“You gonna leave again?” Her voice comes out small, like she’s some teenage girl again, terrified he’s going to love and leave her.

She hears him sigh; he pulls her into him, and she turns to fit herself into his embrace.

“I was thinking about staying for a while. You know anyone willing to let me mooch off of ‘em? Any pretty girls?”

“I can think of one. Real bossy, though.”

Bucky chuckles through his nose, and it’s easily one of Steph’s favorite sounds. “I can handle bossy.” He grins at her, hair falling in his face and dark circles under his eyes. He’s a vision like this, in her bed, teasing her, fucked out. “So? Can I stay?”

She caresses his cheek, affection swelling in her.  “Of course you can stay.”

He kisses her again, a fond and chaste thing, and then they settle in for the night. 

It’s one of the best days of her life, or at least her life this century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddddddddddddddddddd, fin. That's all she wrote, folks.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Remember, comments are life <3

**Author's Note:**

> [Take this survey to help me know what to write next!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfsX46U6Ts_8m7YRGMSR-yl_rQfCXmekD0nHlK7Cq0FBliGbw/viewform?usp=sf_link)


End file.
